


And after all, we`re only ...

by Der_Katze



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Gen, M/M, Memory Lane, Wincest - Freeform, doing the dishes, everday life, late season first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Der_Katze/pseuds/Der_Katze
Summary: A oneshot trip down "Memory Lane" with Dean and how he perceived his brother during all these years on their epic journey and what`s about to change on a normal Wednesday evening right before Christmas. (Pre-Wincest)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 25





	And after all, we`re only ...

*  
  
  
  
[Pink Floyd - Us and Them](https://youtu.be/nDbeqj-1XOo)  
This song is about the senselessness of war.  
  
[Lyrics](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/pinkfloyd/usandthem.html)  
  


**And after all, we`re only …**

The only thing on Dean`s mind is a crisp cold bottle of beer, the condensation setting in the minute he frees it from the fridge, maybe chased by a fiery warm Bourbon later. Research is just such a fucking dry and dusty business, more Sam`s metier.

Speaking of the devil. As he walks through the kitchen door, he sees the broad back of his brother bend over the sink. Snake like the steaming fog of hot water is crawling up Sam`s arm in the cool air conditioned drafts in the bunker. His left foot is bouncing rhythmically to the inaudible beat in his earplugs. Probably some obscure Indie stuff.

And he doesn't know why, but this serene sight stops him right there, in the frame of the door. There is an aura around Sam that is domestic and so unusually calm, that the little hair on his arm erect with a shiver. Standing quietly to not disturb the peace of the scene in front of him, he can see it all - how it could have been. Quiet and normal and – maybe even a bit boring at times.

_Us and them  
And after all we're only ordinary men_   
  


Carefully with soft steps, he closes the distance between them. Sam`s forearms are twisting and turning, veins sticking out, strong and sure. And soft and delicate. His big hands cleaning plates and cups with deft and precise movements, whilst he is still nodding to the rhythm in his ears.

He knows Sam's body so well. Still a child himself, he has raised his brother as a baby, brothers with a broken father and a mother who went up in flames on the ceiling of their family home.

He knows how Sam's body feels cuddled up into a little Sammy ball sniffling so quietly, that John wouldn't wake up in the bed not even a meter from theirs in the dark motel room. Only them in the dark night with the constant flow of trucks rumbling by on the highway. Him as a shield and shelter for his brother's numerous nightmares and Sam in his bed shivering with hiccups and tears. And both of them in the thick of Dad`s endless requests and demands and never ending training.

Between only the both of them, it sometimes had actually been fun. When they were younger, much younger, it had been a game for them to sneak up on the other in full stealth mode, catching the other off-guard.The excitement rushing through every muscle, nerve and fiber and still being quiet like a ghost. Hunter`s fever switching on all senses, sharp-cut and crystalline.

The last centimeters before you could touch the other, then a shocked yelp – or a high-pitched shriek – those were the best - and the burst into frenzied laughter and flaring electricity of the anticipated retaliation. It didn`t even matter on which side you were in this game.

But at some point it had really hurt, in more ways then one. When Sam had been 10, Dean had put a hand on Sam`s neck wanting to press him down. But instead of hearing this cute little brother squeak, Sam had turned and smashed his fist against Dean`s shoulder so hard, that he had a shimmering rainbow of bruises for days. It was never clear, if it had just been their endless combat training and the ingrained reflexes or if Sam actually had wanted to hurt him.

Before Dean had always been able to laugh it off, petting Sam's head with the wild long strands, making him look like some kind of goofy hippie - much to John's dismay. But probably already then their father had had a strong apprehension, that Sam was anything but.

In a lot of ways, that was already true then. Brilliantly clever, outsmarting a lot of his teachers, Sam clearly was gifted, in more ways than he knew.

When Sam was 11, he had shown real interest in fighting. Dean had found it kind of endearing on how Sam wanted to catch up to his big brother's skills. And he did with astonishing grace and strength for a kid his age. Remembering these years, always elicits a warm smile in Dean.

But over the months, the years, Sam's enthusiasm waned more and more, until - it seemed - that the family business had became normal to Sam, that he had started to integrate it as normal. Dean could not have been more wrong.

What never became normal were the nightmares. His and Sam`s.

When Sam had turned 11, the spot in Dean`s bed reserved for his brother had stayed empty from one night to the next without explanation. It had stayed cold for some years afterwards.

Dean still suspected by the moaning and tossing and turning in the bed next to him, that the nightmares hadn`t stopped. But Little Sammy had grown into Lanky Sam, whose hair always were too long to be able to read his eyes.

In the spring of 1998, Sam had been 15, Dean became aware that he wasn't able to look down on Sam anymore. For half a year, they were on eye level and he could stare straight into Sam's kaleidoscope eyes.

When school started again in autumn, he started to have to slightly look up to find his brother's gaze and with it came a weird elevator twist in his stomach, that only slowly settled into a new normal.

And Sam still had nightmares.

After Sam`s 16th birthday, his brother's hot furnace body returned to his side with soft, pleading words, turning into moans as he rubbed his body against Dean's.

Then, Sam was gone. There was no normal for two very, very, very long years.

_"Forward!" he cried  
From the rear  
And the front rank died  
And the general sat  
And the lines on the map  
Moved from side to side _

And then Dad and he parted ways and he was on his own.

Admittedly, he didn't do too well with his new freedom even though he distracted himself in every way possible from the violent pull of loneliness in his heart and black void in his guts. But it was pointless to try to fill it up with whiskey and hustling and countless women and one or two or three men.

One of the guys, who actually picked him up, offered Dean some pills back at his flat. Never! John's command reverberate through his drunk head dizzying and deafening, but he had just smiled at the guy and swallowed the pink pill with the running bunny reliefed onto it down with a fresh beer.

The bunny was more like the one in Alice and he fell down into the rabbit hole of his own pent up feelings, drowning and choking on them until they had all came rushing out in one big flood of words and tears.

Even though he was horrified and ashamed of his break down, he found himself unable to leave, trying to find comfort in the arms of the big guy with the long light brown hair and his sweet and understanding. His appearance and reaction were as close as he could get to his brother. And it was nearly perfect and made it even worse, because the smell was wrong and the color of his eyes, which looked at him with so much empathy that he had to turn tail and run.

How could this lovely guy understand? Only Sam could. Only Sam!

Dean can't remember his name, only that he studied medicine at a good university nearby. It bugs him, that he forgot the nice guy's name, because he was the only one who knew that Dean loved his brother more than siblings should.

And so this escape route didn’t work. They never did.

_With, without_   
_And who'll deny it's what the fighting's all about?_

He had blamed himself for these two years straight, why he hadn't given in to Sam's pleas, knowing that inside of Sam's oversized body, there was a delicate, sensitive soul, which needed stability and security and the love of his brother.

The loss of Sam at his side had dealt him a blow from which he didn`t even really recover, when Sam came back – after another fire and another beloved woman dead.

And still, Dean had not been able to allow himself to grant this to Sam, two sides waring inside his own body.

He knows every scratch and scar on Sam's skin, he knows how it feels, when he had managed to win the upper hand in their training and Sam is twisting under him. He knows how it felt, when Sam had won pinning him to the ground with his body, heavier and bulkier with every passing year.

He knows, how Sam's body feels, when he is dying, going all slack and torpid in his arms.

And he remembers how alive Sam's body was, when he embraced him in the doorway of this sleezy hotel, after he had dug his way out of Hell and his grave.

The memory of not having Sam is suddenly so vivid, vivid and painful, that he has to brace himself on the fridge. It`s just a quiet Wednesday night, he tells himself. As normal as it can get in the bunker.

But there is Sam right in front of him. He hasn`t seen him so laid-back in – years. His brother is whistling low to the song in his ears, which he recognizes as something from Pearl Jam, but he doesn't know the title of it. The porcelain is clinking in rhythm.

Dean exhales gingerly.

_Me and you  
God only knows it's not what we would choose to do _

Sam presence pulls him in like a campfire in a dark, frostbitten night. He takes the last step. The body warmth of his brother is already touching Dean`s stretched out arm, aching to feel and glide over the plain of muscles at Sam`s back.

Attentively, he lets his fingers brush over the washed out fabric of the red and black checkered flannel. Sam jerks and Dean grins faintly about his startled huff. He slides his hands over Sam's shoulders, kneading his rolling muscles, and eliciting a sigh out of Sam, that sinks deeper into him, than Dean had expected.

Dean closes in and buries his nose in the sweat shining hair of Sam's neck. His hands are sliding down at Sam`s side, until they rest on his hip bones. He can feel his brother pausing for a long moment, his broad back stiffening and then relaxing again, though his body still carrying a silent question.

Dean can clearly imagine the befuddled look on Sam's face. The corners of his mouth move up in a warm smile and he presses in even closer, slides his hands over Sam's hips onto his stomach, aligns his whole body with Sam's and then breathes in deeply.

Shortly, Sam ducks his head and his arm moves, probably taking out his ear plugs. Dean can see through his half lidded eyes goose bumps break out under the damp curls of Sam's hair, followed by a hardly contained moan.

A wet, hot hand lands on his, squeezing it and he can't surpress the sigh escaping him as his whole body relaxes into his brother's.

He can hear the amusement in the "What's going on, Dean?" reverberating through Sam's chest. And he is not sure himself, just that it has been a while.

His mumbled "Nothing!" seems to amuse Sam even more and slowly his brother turns in the embrace, bringing them face to face, which makes him weirdly shy, his cheeks heating up and he tries to avoid Sam's eyes by looking down and playing with the buttons on Sam's flannel.

"Hey!" Sam's voice is now all smooth velvet and careful from above, the spooked horse kind, and soft, which heats up his face even more.

Dean clears his throat, but his voice is still hoarse as he presses out "Do you wanna watch a movie tonight?"

There is a big hand under his chin forcing his gaze up and he lowers his eyes protectively, but he already knows it's a lost cause, because Sam can wait him out until he gets all fidgety and even more self-aware then he already is.

The fingers under his chin vanish just to be replaced by hot big hands still wet and smelling like the lemony dish soap they use.

He can see the question in Sam`s eyes, which are earnest, but there is a fervent glow in the back of his iris and Dean nods slightly into the welling up in his chest, that speaks of war and loss and love.

It seems it was answer enough, because Sam bends his face a little more into Dean`s space. Just some centimeters, but it is still a shift in the universe, creating a new one and Dean has to close his eyes.

Sam leans in even closer, his warmth envelopping him as Sam nestles his faces against his and kisses him softly on his forehead, on his cheek, then hesitating.

Dean waits with bated breath ...

Carefully, he opens his eyes again. Sam's face is so close that his eyes blur into a glint, his cheeks flushed and his lips slightly parted. Sam's breath on his skin, faster than before.

Dean leans forward a millimeter, strokes his forehead along Sam's chin. The short stubble of his beard scratches lightly, sending a shiver down his spine. A gasp. Maybe his. He leans a fraction out of Sam's spell. A moment later, he feels Sam's lips at the corner of his mouth, then on his lips, light as a breath of air - waiting.

Dean wants to hide and block, but …

Sam brushes his thumb over Dean`s upper lip, reverently, and in Dean the hiding place in his heart breaks open. For them - for both of them.

The part of him that has been suppressed for so long makes its way out. Dean stares past Sam's shoulder for a moment into the dim light above the sink, stunned.

He never would have guessed that they ... After so long, on an ordinary Wednesday night.

He sinks forward against Sam's chest, this new part of him still unfolding, still shy and uncertain, yet this is only ... Sam. ... Sam!

Cautiously, he looks up at him. Sam has furrowed his eyebrows helplessly, as if to apologize for how much he loves him, and he looks so young at this moment, so innocent.

And yet, in his brother's eyes, their whole life story is reflected in dark and shining shades - every small and big betrayal, they've ever committed against each other, the endless killing, every rescue mission, all the miles they've swept across the U.S. together in the Impala, and all the pain - in their hearts and souls and their bodies.

But what swims most powerfully in Sam's eyes is - love, undimmed, painful, and unsalvageable love. It swirls in Sam's eyes like a maelstrom and ....

Dean pushes against Sam with his whole body, pressing him against the sink and kisses him, opening his lips to let Sam in.

_Black and blue  
And who knows which is which and who is who?_   
  


*


End file.
